Ribbons and Refugees
by CianaTheRabbit
Summary: The reapress, the whore, the blinded, and the arsonist. Four victims of circumstance, brought together by the same thing that tore their lives apart. Together, their willpower is strong. But fate is a fickle mistress, and her whims could very well swing away from the favor of these four, even despite their greatest efforts to fight it. (M for gore, sexual content, and language.)
1. The Blinded

It was not a quiet night.

No, it was a night of blood, screams, of a traitor's regrets over the life she had lived, and the first night she would spend blind.

The depth of the alleyway seemed endless, her body sprawled out against the cold concrete, having been sent into deepest sleep by men she once trusted. They stood over her, masked faces showing despite the rest of their figures being obscured by shadows. No sound breached the air until the girl's golden eyes opened, which had prompted the men to hold her down, practically crushing her limbs under their iron grip. Her limbs would have been flailing if they weren't pinned to the ground, shortly after which her head was held down, forcing her to look up at her captors.

It was at this moment that she realized, even with her clothes intact, that she was missing something important. Her feline ears folded back, and she hissed.

"My bow," she snarled, "Give it back."

The one who held her head responded to this.

"Heh, not likely, kid," he growled, "I don't care what Adam's said about you, we know what we're doin'. You, kiddo, are comin' back to the Fang in pieces, whether you like it or not."

The mention of the name 'Adam' caused her to freeze in place.

"Wait," she said, "Let me see him."

"And what, you're gonna betray us again? I don't care if you ARE his precious little girl, you're gonna die tonight," another man snarled, "And he's gonna realize what he's doing, wanting his sweetheart alive."

"S-Sweetheart?!" the girl hissed back, the word prompting her to struggle again, "What the HELL did he tell you?!"

Her arm was soon freed, though in pain, and out of habit she reached for the blade she always carried.

Her hand was met by empty space.

"Nice try, kiddo. I know what you want...And it's staying with us."

A sharp pain seared through the base of one of her feline ears, slicing clean through it. It was only then, when a familiar blade met her sight, the tip soaked in her blood, that she realized just how useless struggling would be.

She screamed, not out of pain, but out of sheer horror. She couldn't move, could barely speak. The taste of acid rose through her throat, and she realized that she was just as likely to choke on her own vomit as she was to bleed out.

She was hoping for the former.

Her ear, now severed, was dropped onto her face, sliding down her cheek and forming a streak of blood on her pale face, soon landing in her hair and causing it to take on the ever-so-slight tint of red that her dark, wispy hair hadn't taken in at least a few years.

It was funny how long it had been since her hair was last bloodied, and she recalled that it had been her own blood against her that time. Now, once again, her jet-black hair lay strewn about on the ground, soaking in the blood of her severed ear as the ones holding her down tried to repress laughter at the slaughter of a traitor.

She silenced herself, terrified.

It had been inevitable; the White Fang would seek her out as soon as they knew she was gone. She had betrayed her own master to leave, of all people, and yet her sacrifice was now in vain. The name 'Adam Taurus,' a man she had loved as a mentor and partner, was now met with nothing but bitter thoughts.

A single thought crossed her mind: '_But you KNEW they were coming. What else did you expect?'_

Suddenly, her thoughts ended with another searing pain to the ear. Of all the ways she could have been marked as a traitor, they had decided that removing her feline ears was the best method, and she knew they were using her blade, of all things, to do the deed. She screamed once more, the shadows around her falling silent and allowing her voice to echo through the alleyway as she tried to struggle once more.

"Awright," one man said, "That's done. Now...You all know what to do. Push her harder to the ground. She's gonna try getting away otherwise."

Her eyes widened.

Exactly what they wanted.

The sight of her blade met her left eye, and the man holding it quickly drove it down into her skull, just enough to split her eye in two. There was a brief pause before the blade reached it, a sickening squelch marking the start of her blindness. Her remaining eye still clung to the blade, dripping as it was lifted out of her skull, and she no longer could hold back her horror. She would have recoiled back if she could move, but instead, the taste of acid reached her tongue, and she quickly found herself unable to breathe, trying to cough out the vomit filling her throat and mouth to no avail. This was how she would go after all, wasn't it?

Soon, her head was thrown to the side with such force that she swore it nearly snapped her neck.

They didn't want her dead just yet.

They wasted no time with her other eye, jamming Gambol Shroud into her right eye until sight finally faded from her, the world replaced with black. Just black, nothing else. Black, and sounds.

She howled in pain, writhing underneath the grip of her former comrades.

"Awright, now that we got that outta the way…"

The blade tore across her body, slashing through her abdomen, leaving a trail of searing pain that was numbed by the shock the girl was in.

Then, suddenly, the group fell silent.

Something had arrived to silence them. The footsteps had a familiar, almost warm sound to this girl's ears. They were coming from a nearby rooftop, or at least she thought they were.

A quick move from whoever had arrived, and somebody fell, groaning in pain.

"Just what were you doing," the person snarled, "To my apprentice?!"

Nobody answered. The girl knew exactly who this was. A gloved hand met hers, pulling her upwards so that she stood, and quickly dashed off with her in tow.

This was Adam Taurus, after all. The man she knew as a beast.

The world became a blur. Her head, it might as well have not been there at all. With the feeling of nothing there, it was easy for her to fall into a state of sleep once more.

"I'm sorry, Adam," she whispered, "I don't think I can make it."

No reply.

The winds dried her wounds, stinging each part of her that had been cut.

She expected to be greeted by light, to be able to see once more in the afterlife as if the night had been nothing more than a bad dream.

Instead, what greeted her later was the strong smell of disinfectants and the feel of bandages over her wounds, along with the same darkness that had greeted her the previous night.

_Of course,_ she thought, _He would do this. Only for me._

The thought of what had become of Adam struck her mind. Did he just leave her at the first hospital he could find? Yes, that was probably it. He was devoted to his cause, after all, and wouldn't abandon it for anything.

Another thought struck her: The remnants of her ears had been stitched back onto their bases. Even if they hadn't deafened her in them, she still hadn't wanted to lose the ears themselves.

She felt around, eventually reaching her bedside table.

On it lay her bow. Though her ears were bandaged, she quickly slipped her bow over them, sighing.

She could only hope he had Gambol Shroud with him.

After all, she was Blake Belladonna, traitor to the White Fang. She was a refugee.

And Adam would be coming back for her. He hadn't wanted her to die, but now? She expected him to break in at any second.

When he came for her, she'd be ready, even without her eyes.


	2. The Whore

_Let me go._

Those three words stuck out to this girl. They were a cry she had sent out long ago, a desperate wish to no longer be caged as a trophy girl, a girl whose only purpose in life was to carry a burden as a pack mule would, whipped and pulled around by those who held her. It was never her ideal life, but the circumstances she was born under made that life so.

It was only natural she would run away.

It had started as wandering, going wherever her foolish whims took her, but soon it would become so much more. It was a struggle for power, power and money. Especially the latter. Money was such a cruel thing, it was such a necessity and yet so hard to come by. This girl, a girl who now sat in a small, dull gray room on a cheaply-built bed, hadn't realized it for a long time. Now, she realized that life had lessons to teach.

The first lesson was that being rich and carrying burdens may have been preferable to selling one's body to others just for a few quick lien. The bruises on her back and thighs hadn't been there before she arrived in Vale, and now, after a few 'rounds' with others, they were there, spots where a man's grip had been too hard, where she had taken actual damage from sleeping with somebody.

The second lesson: There are very few brothels in Vale. To end up in one is the sign of brokenness and bad decisions, debts and even cowardice, all of which applied to this girl. Brokenness from the decision to run away, the decision itself being a bad one, debts from a few shady dealings in an attempt to keep herself alive, and cowardice from not wanting to fight.

She sighed, rolling over onto her naked back and waiting for the next client to enter. It wasn't long before the door was opened, the shadowed figure's breathing audible from the silence in the room. He wasn't a 'looker' by any means; no, this one was somewhat of a mess to begin with, his awkward, slightly slumped posture only complementing his messy blonde hair and embarrassed smile.

He was eyeing her, from her petite figure to her long, silky lengths of white hair. Granted, he didn't look like the type to hurt her as many others did, but he still stole many looks at her. She nearly reacted to this, but restrained herself, keeping her composure. She had to, at least until he was gone. After all, the quiet ones got paid better.

Though this one looked like he had barely managed to pay to get in.

"So," she began, quickly putting up the prostitute's facade, "You're looking for a good time, aren't you? You want that night of passion, desire, hm?"

"U-Uhhhh…" was the only reply she received.

"Yes? It's okay, there's no need to be nervous. You're with the best," she said, the falseness beginning to show in her voice, "So come here, lie down, and prepare for the best night you've ever had…"

"Wait," her 'partner' said, "I...I have to c-confess, I, uh…"

"Yes?"

"N-Never mind. Can you just...Can I give you the reins for tonight?"

She smirked at this, realizing that she, for the first time in weeks, would get the upper hand. Sure, her skills lay in being the submissive one, but there was a certain thrill to this, a sort of power, and this girl, quite frankly, loved it.

"All right," she told him, stepping up from the bed, "Take off your clothes and lay down. I'd like to ask, though, is this your first time?"

"Yes," he answered, "...I'm surprised to see a girl like you here, though. You're a lot more…"

"Dignified? Elegant?" the girl inquired, "Go on, tell me."

"Well, you certainly look better than the other girls," he admitted, "And I've...Uh, I consider myself lucky that I get to sleep with you? I guess?"

"...Don't flatter me like that! Lay down," she ordered once he had undressed, "And don't move."

The night was a blur from then onwards. It was just as the girl had remembered: Exhilarating. As she positioned herself over him, she found herself overcome with the rush of dominating. Sure, he wasn't that attractive. Sure, he was awkward, he had tried to flatter her for something, all this was true. Yet now, at this moment, she couldn't deny herself the pleasure of leaping onto him like an animal, letting her nails sink into his back, letting him feel everything she had held back for so long.

She pressed her body against his, wrapping her legs around his waist and grinning to herself. Then, she gripped his back, her hands catching a hint of his anticipation, feeling his trembling body as she began to grind against him, quickly biting his collarbone to add to the effect she had hoped to produce. She snarled, contrasting his short, almost panicked gasps. Was he even enjoying this? That question briefly crossed her mind, but the look in his eyes that she briefly caught continued to fill her with a sort of ecstasy, one that she wasn't letting go of.

She thrusted against him, losing track of what was happening as she let her instincts take hold. All she remembered after that was biting down on his neck once again…

And the scream he let out as it happened. She wasn't sure what it was from. Pain? Quite possibly. Pleasure? Also possible, though it was likely a mix of both, which she could only savor as she kept herself moving, doing everything she could to keep the high going.

Her trance was interrupted briefly by what she swore was the word "stop." Her nails dug into his back; she dragged them downwards until she reached his hips.

"Stop, please!"

She reached her head towards his neck once more, sinking her teeth in.

"STOP!"

Quickly, he fought her away, shoving his hands towards her face and chest and pushing her off until he could finally catch his breath again.

"I...I'm sorry, but I can't do this! You're gorgeous, okay? Something else, really, but I can't keep going if this is what you're going to do!"

The bites on his neck began to sting; the marks on his back showed extremely clearly.

He turned around, and the girl gasped. Suddenly, her trance ended, the feelings of her high being replaced with guilt, dread, and the horror that she had done something terribly, terribly wrong. She had drawn blood at his shoulders. His once pale back had been marred by bright red streaks, each streak topped by a slowly growing mass of blood.

She had done this.

This wasn't right at all. This wasn't how it had felt during the act.

"Uhh...C-Crap, it's not as bad as it looks, trust me!"

_You did this, you idiot! Look what you've done, you've gone and fucked this guy, and look how hard you've done it! _she thought, _This wasn't what he wanted, you Dust-damned idiot! You just had to-_

Her thoughts raced, interrupted by his speaking.

"Hey, you there? I, uh...I'll be going now. I can get going, right?"

_Shut up._

"Miss...Schnee, right? Weiss Schnee? Geez, I only barely caught your name…"

_Shut. UP._

"Can you answer m-"

"SHUT. UP."

Her 'partner' leapt back at this, horrified. Weiss was breathing heavily, almost growling at him. She had turned into the same thing she had been running from long ago. She HAD to have control over him while he was here, or better yet, she had to send him off before she became a monster.

"I…" he stammered.

"I need you to get out. NOW," Weiss hissed, "Because we're done. Completely. And unless you want to see me at my worst, well-"

"All right, I'm going, I'm going! Please," he begged, "Just...Just let me get out of here, okay? I won't come back, even! There, h-how's that?"

"Good," she snarled, "Now leave."

The next morning greeted her eyes like acid, as if the bright and warm skies were trying to burn her to nothing.

She hadn't wanted to head off to her 'job' too soon, but at the same time, something in the back of her mind told her that the person she had been with the previous night would be there, or at least would have left something there for her.

Stepping into the room, she found a note on the pillow.

_Weiss,_

_Sorry about last night. Is this enough to make it up to you?_

_-Jaune_

Underneath the note lay a small fortune in lien.

Weiss grinned to herself, pocketing the money he had left her and stepping outside once again. This was going to be a better day than she had thought.

Her hand met the hilt of her rapier. The fights were going to be lovely, she could tell. After all, she had been begging to be let go for so long.

It was time to run.


	3. The Arsonist

Fire was so cathartic.

There was something comforting about it, whether it was the smell of smoke or the destruction that fire brought, that calmed her, lulled her into a state of zen. Unhealthy as her obsessions were, she knew what would come should she lose control. A roaring blaze would follow in her wake, leaving her branded a criminal, captured and no longer free from the life of the caged bird.

And this city, it was calling to her. Mindlessly destroying it would be a bad idea, certainly, but igniting the flames within its walls would be wonderful. Just somewhere, anywhere that nobody would look. A place she could watch as it burned to the ground, crumbling into nothing but ash. One small part of the city, somewhere.

She just wanted to leave her mark like others before her had.

Of course, the others before her, criminals of the back alleys, rogues and thugs alike, they had all been caught. She had never been caught, she just kept escaping the scene before anybody even noticed she was there. After all, the vagabond arsonist had to keep a low profile. All for the sake of venting frustrations.

That was right...Venting. It had been twelve years since she had discovered her mother, her mother's fate, and what she would soon find becoming an addiction.

The sight of the body's burning silhouette was still clearly etched in her mind. It was the only way the past could rest. The run-down, grimm-infested house she had visited all those years ago had been burned to the ground that night, a body hung from the ceiling to remind all who visited that nobody would be safe; the young girl who stood and watched in awe and horror was quickly carried away by her passing uncle before anything else could happen, as if he knew this was coming.

All the while, a three-year-old girl was nearly choked to death on the smoke that surrounded them.

All the arsonist could do now about that story was laugh. Her mother, the woman who had abandoned her at birth, was dead. Her uncle could never face her the same way again. Her sister? The girl's voice never fully recovered; there would always be a somewhat-thick hoarseness to her voice. These two girls had been left with a broken father, and one of them had been left with guilt.

She had to get rid of it. That was when she started burning things.

It had started as horrific, a bitter reminder of days that had passed and a pursuit for answers that had ended in nothing. She couldn't turn away from it, though, and as she continued to watch small patches of grass burn, turning into huge brush fires, the flames became something else. A rush of power, anger, _passion._ It gave her the feeling that she could crush all in her way, showing no care or mercy.

When that feeling first came to her, she _loved_ it.

And so she stood in the outskirts of Vale, gauntlets at the ready, looking for a place to destroy. Anything to keep her from thinking about the day that had passed, which had been yet another uneventful one. Her fingers twitched anxiously as she searched, eventually seeing an abandoned warehouse amongst the decrepit, yet still inhabited, buildings. This would be perfect.

She made her way towards it, watching to make sure that nobody saw her.

Once again, she was preparing for the event of the night. It wasn't a common event, happening only every month or so, but it was common enough that people had began to suspect that her crimes were connected. She had to use the utmost caution in this endeavor.

Finally, she reached the building, but the sound of voices inside had made her realize that she was very much not alone. Between her quiet breaths, she heard something that almost sounded like the words of a cult. It wasn't until she heard the word "EQUALITY!" called out that she realized exactly where she was.

She was amongst the Fang. The misled faunus of the world, hiding under masks in hopes of clawing their way to the top, walking a path that had once ended in their equality.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Still, crashing their meeting would definitely cause a scene, even though she would stay to observe.

She listened intently from the shadows. Their words passed through her ears, one at a time, and she absorbed each one. Sure, she admitted they were wrong. But hearing this, realizing just how far the group had been led in a desperate search to be treated as people, it was horrifying. Their talk of killing, of rebellion, of where humans truly belonged, it hadn't gone unnoticed. They, however, would never notice that somebody was listening.

In fact, they had chosen to strike first before anything else. Her listening had been interrupted by another person nearby, one who gave a cry of "There's somebody else here! Human! We're being followed!"

Her eyes widened, and she immediately turned around, taking a combat stance. Immediately, she was greeted by three faunus, each bearing a mask and a blade of some sort. She readied her gauntlets, wasting no time in blasting them to the ground with a few quick gunshots before tearing off, even more White Fang in pursuit.

It was, to her at least, thrilling. There was a certain excitement to being pursued by terrorists, ones she had been listening in on moments ago. Her feet flew over the pavement, turning each step into a near leap as she ran.

This was what it meant to live. Danger, crime, the flame within one's heart being fueled by the fans of passion and energy.

Then, however, she realized that the chase had been unusually...easy. Something wasn't right with the group chasing her, as if they were planning something. Regardless, she kept running, eventually trying to dash off to the side.

Something _had_ been wrong the whole time. Quickly, from nearby alleyways, more White Fang emerged, blades and guns in hand and focused on their kill. An ambush, of course they'd do this. It was a typical White Fang tactic, one she should have seen coming. They surrounded her, striking mercilessly.

Her only response was to back away. She backed away, quickly dodging their attacks until she had finally hit a wall.

What a wall it was to hit. Behind her was not only a wall, but a window, one that when looked through would show numerous children. Presumably, they had led her to, of all places, an orphanage. Now, recklessly attacking was a risk, one she wasn't about to take.

"Hey," she quickly breathed, "Look, I won't say a word about the meeting. You guys'd really try to kill a girl in front of these kids, would you?"

No response from the crowd aside from a few steps forward.

"Look, there's faunus in there! Why would you do that to your own kind, anyway?"

Still nothing, nothing save for raised blades and seething hatred. It was time for her to, reluctantly, strike back and strike back powerfully.

She raised her fists to the air, then quickly brought them down. Instantly, her lavender eyes became a blazing red, and there was fire. All around her, flames blinded her. Instinctively, she shot forward, unleashing a barrage of punches upon the crowd, leaping from person to person as she parried each blade and struck them, one by one tossing their faces to the ground.

By the end of it all, her breaths were heavy, and the smell of smoke still lingered.

Amidst the bodies sprawled out in front of her, there was a burning building.

She dashed over, catching sight of fleeing children and collapsing beams, screams echoing around her. Rubble was already quickly piling up, blocking any path she had.

And then, in the midst of it, a young girl's eyes met hers. The girl looked on at her with horror in her eyes, desperately screaming, pleading to the one staring back at her to get her out of her grave.

The one looking on couldn't.

The situation had been awfully familiar, after all. Soon, flames had begun to engulf the little girl. She coughed out screams, trying desperately to get somebody to help, to no avail.

That was when the one who had started this, the arsonist, fell down and sobbed, closing her eyes for what she hoped would be the last time.

Soon, she was picked up, the hands of another reaching her body and hoisting her upwards.

_...Of course you'd be here, _she thought, _I wouldn't expect less from you._

She knew what she would awaken to. Scolding, possibly. Anger, most definitely. And of course, her own haunting guilt and grief, another notch on her gauntlets for another fuckup.

"Yang."

She stirred at the first words from a familiar voice.

"Yang!"

She rolled over in a small hospital bed, muttering a few words out.

"Sh-Shaddup…" Yang mumbled, "Get outta here. I was s'posed to die back there."

"You weren't," the voice responded, "And you're not going to. You recall what I was in that part of the city for, I presume?"

"Yeah," she growled back, "And it wasn't about me. Why'd you even save me, anyway?"

She didn't even bother looking up. Yang knew full well who it was. To think, her uncle would save her from a fiery death twice, scooping her up without a second thought towards her wishes at the moment or towards his own safety.

"You're family," Qrow responded, "...And I know what you would leave behind."

Oh, that was right. Ruby. There were very few bitter feelings between them, and suddenly, Yang had been snapped back to reality. She would be leaving behind her sister, wouldn't she? After all, hadn't the same thing happened to Qrow all those years ago?

He didn't want a repeat of the past. That was it. To see his sister-in-law's child left alone wouldn't bode well for...anything. Or anybody. Especially after his sister had left him to begin with.

"So I imagine you're going to start running?" Qrow asked, "After all, you don't have much time before you're wanted for that."

Yang nodded.

"Yeah, I will. Probably gonna find Ruby first, so I guess when I see you again, she'll be there too. That'll be nice."

Yang didn't see the man behind her bow and leave, but she heard his footsteps clearly.

"I'll see you then," he said.

Once he had left, Yang looked to her legs, her burned thighs.

That hadn't happened in a while. Not since she had found her mother.

**Note: My apologies that this chapter is lacking. I swear the next one will be better!**


	4. The Reapress

"Evening...Irvin, was it? Care to explain what was going on back there with your brother?"

The young sheep faunus boy had been surrounded, each man around him clad in black and red save for the one leading the group, who also happened to be the only one who stood out. Indeed, he wore not black, but white, and his hair, covering one of his eyes, was almost like a flame in color.

Irvin knew what this was, _who_ this was, and swallowed hard. This was Roman Torchwick, notorious criminal, notorious _human_ criminal, asking this young faunus about a White Fang-related issue. Irvin wanted to break down right then, to fall to his knees and to beg and sob, to scream and claw for his own freedom once again. However, with the way he was surrounded, a scrawny, eleven-year-old boy surrounded by criminals, he knew it was impossible. The boy swallowed hard, trying to face these men even as they struck him with terror. He brushed the long white hair out of his face and lowered his faunus ears, then spoke.

"I...I…" Irvin stammered, "I w-was j-j-just trying t-to get outta the F-Fang, honest, mister!"

The boy shifted the straps to the backpack he was carrying.

"We aren't here about the Fang, kiddo. Sure, we might be...collaborating, but that's not why I've got you here," Torchwick explained, raising the cane he carried to Irvin's forehead, "You see, we've noticed a recent...drop in our Dust supply."

"Whu-What?!" Irvin asked, "I...I didn't do any of that! My big bro, he's try'na snatch the Dust for himself!"

"Really, now," Torchwick continued, "Because I know what I heard, kid. Something about a smuggling deal between you two?"

This was true, to an extent. Irvin _had_ promised to smuggle Dust between certain White Fang members, but to actually go through with the smuggling? He certainly wasn't bold enough to. It was just a lie, after all, for the boy to leave the White Fang. It was his one life dream, a dream now being torn away from him by those who accused him of theft.

Irvin tried to step back, but was met by the wall of the building behind him, a brick spire obstructing his only method of escape as he glanced nervously around, hopelessly searching for another.

"M-m-mister Torchwick, please! I know where the Dust is, and I...I didn't wanna take it from you, honest! P-Please take my backpack! It's got the Dust, I swear it does!"

Irvin then tossed the pack forward and darted off. Or at least, he tried to, but he was quickly grabbed by the neck and thrown back to his original position.

"Ah-ah-ah! I didn't say you could leave, did I?"

"N-No sir, you didn't, s-sir, you d-d-didn't say," Irvin whimpered, "Please let me g-go!"

The pack was quickly opened in front of Irvin, revealing nothing except the faunus boy's ruse.

The cane met his forehead once again.

"You ARE returning to the Fang, aren't you?" Torchwich asked. A crooked grin crossed his face as he spoke to the trembling child, and he prepared to fire a shot.

"You stop that right there!"

From a nearby alleyway emerged a silver-eyed girl, one dressed in a striking red hood and carrying a huge scythe. She was dressed completely in black and red, each part of her outfit giving off a sort of childish elegance, from the flared skirt to the corset around her waist, each bright scarlet lace on her black boots, this girl gave off a powerful vibe. Her scythe certainly added to this effect, each metal plate falling into place so that its technical aspects showed, all while preserving a certain aesthetic to the weapon.

She pointed it towards the group, her expression cold, reflecting each move that dared cross her face.

"Let him go," she hissed, her voice light and throaty, "Or you won't leave here."

"Well well," Torchwick replied, pointing his weapon towards the girl, "Isn't this interesting. Looks like we have...bigger issues. You all know what to do."

While two of the men held the boy down, the rest headed after the girl, guns and blades in their hands. With a quick swipe of her cloak, she disappeared, reappearing behind them and quickly sweeping downwards with her scythe, knocking them down in a single movement.

"Let him go," she repeated, "NOW."

"Well, Red, it's certainly impressive that a girl your age can be so imposing, but…" Torchwick mused, "Well, we have business here."

In one swift move, he took a shot at the boy.

The moment lasted for an eternity, it seemed. The girl watched in utter horror as the flare from his cane hit the child straight in the stomach, fires immediately spreading to his clothes and skin, creating huge areas of charred skin and melting flesh.

This boy would not die quickly, if he did die.

"Y-You...You bastards…" the cloaked girl snarled, "You BASTARDS!"

Immediately, she charged forwards, dashing from side to side in brief flashes before trying to strike. Within the first hit, the man was running, and the men who were with him followed behind. The thought of chasing them came to mind, but there was a more pressing issue: Could she save the boy?

She turned back to the boy, horrified at what she was seeing. Even if the flames were now out, the boy's arms .

"It's...It'll be okay, okay? I can get you help, r-right now, please, just hold on…"

The boy nodded through choked, panicked sobs.

The girl quickly stepped away for a moment, calling out in her own panic.

"H-Hello? Is anybody here? I need help, please! P-Please, there's somebody over here...He's burned! A-And he needs attention now, or he…"

No reply.

"Please! Somebody!"

A few shadows passed by. Still nothing.

"He's going to die...I don't think he'll…"

A look back, and the boy has passed out. He was likely moments away from death, or at the very least it felt like he was.

The girl hardly noticed that she was crying, and all her words came out as hoarse, coughed whimpers.

"Please stay with me, no, no, please don't just die on me like this, please…!"

Finally, a voice answered her back.

"Let me handle him. I might be able to save him."

"Huh?"

A new figure appeared, looking at the girl in red. She was a taller figure, lithe and skinny in figure, and dressed elegantly in black and white. Her most defining features, however, were the bandages around her eyes and the bow she wore.

"I said to let me take care of him. I've had to deal with a few injuries like this in the past," the girl in black answered, "So I know what to do, if it isn't already too late."

"Oh, th-thank you...so much. Here," the hooded girl replied, stepping away from the boy, "I'll let you decided on what to do."

"Right, and I need you to do something for me. Get somebody over here to help. I may have to leave by the time you get back, but I can do something while I'm here."

"...Before I leave, I'd like to ask," the hooded girl said, "You are?"

"...Blake. Blake Belladonna," Blake responded, "And you?"

"Ruby Rose. I'll be off now!" Ruby replied, "Please take good care of him!"

Blake nodded, leaving Ruby dashing off towards a more populated area of the city.

If only this girl had known that Blake's words were just false comfort.

"...I'm sorry," Blake whispered to herself, "For getting your hopes up...Ruby."

It was a long, quiet while before anybody else showed up.

When they did, it wasn't Ruby.

The new person's first words were simply, "You were talking to my sister there...You know where she went?"


End file.
